Faces
by Elanor Joy
Summary: He saw your life and thought it was precious. It was worth the price. You were worth the price. You were worth all the pain. A oneshot ficlet about what I think might have gone on in Jesus' mind before he died.


**I hope you all understand why I put this in romance. It's not the sexual, boyfriend girlfriend type of love. It's a pure, holy love. The greatest love of all. I hope you enjoy it. Oh yeah, this is my own idea of what went on in Jesus' mind. I do not claim that this is really what happened. It's purely fictional, though it follows biblical guidelines. **

Faces flashed in his mind. _John, Peter, James, Andrew, Matthew,_ his brothers, the ones he had loved.The whipped scourged his back, ripping away more skin and he cried out in pain that was far worse than any he'd ever endured.

Now more faces and slowly, names: _Ananius, Paul, Timothy, Lydia, Titus _the great things these would do in his name, love for each of them growing as he looked upon them. The happiness was almost burst when the whip hit him again. He could feel his lifeblood pouring from deep wounds.

Brief images of those to come; Amy Carmichael, cradling an Indian baby girl who would've been a temple prostitute, Hudson Taylor, crying for his wife lost in the Boxer Rebellion. He ached for the hardship both would endure. The whipping had stopped. He felt himself go slack on the flagstones as the guard; Thaddeus was his name, took his arms and dragged him away to his cell once again. He felt the purple cloak being draped over his shoulders and the steam of insults and blows starting up.

Clips were flashing in his mind now: Little Mary Slessor first hearing about missions to Africa, and the spark ignited in her heart. He watched her love for the African children grow. Adoniram Judson on the ship to Burma, sitting on the deck of his ship buried papers, reading his Word. David Livingston sitting across a small fire, telling a great African chief of the love of the Father. The extreme pain he was experiencing was worth it. His pain was saving them. He was giving him all the love he possessed. They were not even born yet.

Then he was forced to stand, to carry his cross, to go to death. The weight of the cross fell across his shoulders. His burden almost overwhelmed him and he stumbled, but did not fall. He would not forsake them. Their sins were upon him now. He was about to give them the lighter load to carry. The weight of the sins of the world added to the enormous weight of the cross. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, the combined weight pressed down on him. The visions of his children all fled his mind and he was left with the crushing burden. He was walking of his own accord to his death, a lamb to be slaughtered. The thought was horrible. His mind began to wander; with each step he felt lightening bolts of pain flash all over his body. His lips were swollen and cracked, and so dry. He tried to lick them but his tongue was swollen from dehydration and it offered no relief. Death by crucifixion would be horrible. Nails, blood, his own weight crushing his lungs until he suffocated. The thought of it made him stumbled and fall. He couldn't get up. It was too much. It was the Father's will. He loved his Father. _Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name._ Somewhere deep within he found strength to stand again, and then to pick up the cross and walk on. _Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven,_ He saw the people lining the street, some were jeering, others were crying._ Give us this day..._ Love for his poor, lost children filled him, thumping in his veins. _Forgive us our debts. _ He continued on, slowly, for his limbs were growing weak, so, so weak. He went on. _For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever and ever. Amen._

And then he fell. Not of his own accord. His limbs were dead. He couldn't hear the shouts anymore. He thought of his mother, his sweet, beautiful, lovely mother. He could feel her tender embrace. He could see her baking bread; always serving others before herself. He felt her heart breaking from afar. He wished he could reach out to her. _Beloved Mother, please don't cry. All will be well. _ He was being forced to his feet, but his burden was not as heavy. He looked over to see Simon from Cyrene carrying the brunt of the weight of the cross. He tried to walk keep pace, but Simon was going fast, his embarrassment quickening his feet. It was all he could do to hang on. His feet were dragging on the ground, the dirt getting into wounds on them. All too soon they were there. Golgotha, he had watched it being made. He knew about every single person who had died here. The cross was lying on the ground. He picked himself off the ground and crawled over to it, laying his arms out on the crossbeam. He prepared himself for the pain to come. It would be over soon.

The nails were horrible, yet he did not cry out. When the cross was dropped into place, he shuddered as the breath was knocked out of him. Each breath became a struggle. There were two other men being crucified next to him. One of them was mocking him along with the crowd. The crowd of those he loved those he was dying for. There were only some crying, all the others were laughing, mocking him, jeering. It added to his pain.

"Father, please, Father, forgive them. Daddy, they don't know what they're doing." They continued on, but he barely heard them, so focused on breathing was he. A voice broke his concentration, for it was ragged and full of pain.

"Stop! Don't you see he's innocent? We have been punished justly for the wrongs we have done, but that man is the Christ! The Son of God! Do you not FEAR God! He's innocent!"

The man who had spoken was hanging on the cross to his right. He turned his head to look at him.

"Please, Lord, remember me when you enter your kingdom."

Joy tore at his heart.

"I tell you the truth, today you will join me in paradise."

The look of comfort on the mans face made the pain more tolerable. It was growing dark. He continued his labored pains for breathe, pushing himself up to free his lungs and gulp air before his legs gave way and he fell down, his own crushing weight keeping him from breathing. The steady jeers died down for it grew late and many had to go home to their families. He felt God's spirit leaving him and the burden of the sins weighing down every inch of him. It was unbearable.

"GOD! My God...Why have you forsaken me!"

The pain, oh the pain, it seared up and down his arms and legs. His lungs ached, but he could not find the strength to push himself up and receive air. Images flashed in his minds eye. This time it was little children, he knew each of them by name. Aadi, Lacy, Marcus, Zoë, Landon, Tyron, Kalinda, Maddox, Jace, Kendi, Joshua, Larissa, Cerelia, Dominic. Those precious little ones, so tiny, yet with such a future. Richard, Melinda, Kenisha, Kevin, Hayden, Ivy, Laurel, Kendal. Their big, innocent eyes looked up at him, trusted him. Love swelled so big within him that is pushed him up and he drew another deep breath of life giving air. And the pain shot through him again, and the burden of sins pressed him down.

And then he saw you. He saw you and loved you so, so much. Looking at you he knew everything about you. He knew how many hairs were on your head. He knew all that would ever happen to you. He saw your life and thought it was precious. It was worth the price. You were worth the price. You were worth all the pain. He saw you with tears in your eyes, and his heart broke for the pain you would go through. He saw you smile and exalted in its magnificence. He felt each and every emotion that you would ever feel. He saw you helpless, alone and scared, and offered his free gift to you, hoping, praying that you would accept it. And with you on his mind he left his body and ascended to heaven, so you might live.

"_Into your hands I commit my spirit." _


End file.
